


Right Up the Dales

by marreena



Series: non omnis moriar [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Candles, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marreena/pseuds/marreena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Not just in bed. Sometimes it's up against the wall. Once on the War Table."</p><p>"I look forward to informing Cullen."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Up the Dales

**Author's Note:**

> based on the in game dialogue where cole tells everyone about the quiz and iron bull being insatiable and doing it on the war table 
> 
> set pre Necklace/Full Romance

He checks all of the usual places for the Inquisitor first. It’s after dark so the tavern seems like the most likely, however she wasn’t there when he was there earlier. Her quarters are empty too, and half the people in Skyhold have surprisingly lost track of her. Even her keepers have lost track of her in between the last council meeting and nightfall.

There’s really only one place left.

Bull almost feels stupid not going to the war room to find her when she was last seen there, but he figured after a couple hours she would leave for something else. She’s still hovering, though, staring at the planned mark on Halamshiral and papers, letters, reports surrounding it. Even when he enters, she does not move or acknowledge him, which certainly _won’t_ do. 

He easily pushes her against the table, but it doesn’t earn him a gasp or anything, just a smirk. “I know I didn’t sneak up on you,” he presses his entire body against hers and envelopes her.

Whenever he does something like this, he expects one of two things from her: she submits or she pushes back. Somedays, he isn’t sure what she will do until it comes to the moment, but right now, he knows instantly. She physically pushes back against him. “I was ignoring you,” she answers, but it’s cut off with a gasp when his fingers dig into her hips. 

“Now, that won’t do,” he growls against her ear and thrusts, knocking her hard into the table. Even though it must have hurt considering they managed to move the entire table, she tilts her hips up just so like she would if he were going to take her against the wall. She’s been _waiting_ for this.

The one downside to his size is that he can’t just immediately shove his hand down her pants to feel how wet she is and confirm how long she’s been waiting. Bull curses every moment he spends undoing the ties of her pants—and then curses Josephine for getting her a new wardrobe because these pants have _two_  ties. Although, the way they make her ass look is enough to wipe away anything. 

  
_Fuck_ , he loves her ass.

Too bad that’s not what he’s here for.

He flips her and presses her against the table, enjoying how wide her legs have to splay for her him to fit in between them. Her eyes lid and she wraps her arms around his neck, and then digs her nails into the back of his neck. “You’ve been searching for me for nearly an hour, Bull. You’re letting all that Ben-Hassarath training go to waste.” 

He gapes for a moment as she dips and bites at his neck. She had scouts on him, watching him and reporting back to her. The entire time he was going around Skyhold looking for her, she had direct eyes on him and laughing at him. 

She was right: he _is_ getting dull.

Her hands are small, but strong against his chest as she tries to push him back, “Let’s go—“ she chokes when he slams her down against the table, causing most of the tokens on the table to be displaced. That will surely cause Cullen a headache in the morning—well, Bull can think of a couple things that he’s about to do that will cause him a headache. 

His favorite being that he’s about to fuck the Inquisitor on the war table. 

Her breath catches when he pins her hands above with one hand and the other goes to her throat, “I’m fucking you here.” 

Ariala’s lips curl into a snarl, “Josephine is going to hear, and—"

He cuts her off by pressing even harder on her throat, “You will just have to be quiet then.” She opens her mouth again, but then closes it and nods. Huh, that was easier than he thought. Bull thought for sure that she would keep fighting back, which he doesn’t really mind at all. There’s even times when he lets her dominate over him—times where she won’t let him touch her while she rides him into oblivion.

There’s a spark in her eyes that means she wants to see where this is going. 

“Make a noise louder than your normal breath and I will stop and leave you here as a present for Cullen.” Even though she can’t speak, he can see the question that forms on her lips, and he smirks. 

The knife in the table jolts her and she looks up to where it pins both of her sleeves to the table. Ariala looks up at him like she wants to laugh but restrains. “Good girl,” he murmurs into her neck and proceeds to leave a mark on her neck that will definitely show no matter how she tries to cover it. 

Her eyes flutter shut and she arches her back just so that they can feel each others breaths stutter, even though she’s restrained she’s able to move against him and pleasure him. He’s still amazed to see even when tied up, she’s able to hitch her hips up just right to catch the bulge in his pants.

Bull pulls away, though, and watches as her body collapses on itself, and she watches him and takes note of every movement he makes. Normally, he’d be fine. He loves letting her just watch as she’s at his mercy. Right now, though? He wants her to be completely at his mercy. 

The red silk tie that he always keeps on him draws her attention when he pulls it out of his pocket. First, she’s confused, he can see the small way her face scrunches up, and then her mouth gapes as she realizes just what he’s planning. Her mouth keeps moving, forming words, she _wants_  to speak and talk and moan, but his instructions remain sound in her ears. She resists for him. 

Red always looked best on her, Bull thinks. Her darker skin, her light hair, her blush that sits high on her cheeks, all of it can be complimented so easily with red—a cherry red, wine red, blood red, every type of red looks exquisite on her. Sometimes, that’s why he likes marking her so much, with his mouth or rope, because the way how her skin flushes and burns at each mark creates the perfect color. It completes the look. 

He makes sure to move the knot of the blindfold so that she’s able to easily rest her head back against the table. If he doesn’t do that, she always gives herself a headache from hitting her head straight into the knot. Her entire body has stilled and tensed as she waits for him to do something, she tries to listen to his steps and guess what he’s doing to prepare. 

It’s always more than just fucking for Ariala. 

There has to be some sort of introduction, foreplay, at least one round before he even gets a chance to penetrate her, and then another part of touching, kissing, biting. It’s methodical in the way that there’s aways more planned than taking her against the wall. _What will he do this time_? 

A click to her left when he sets something down causes her to freeze and listen. He watches as she even tries to _smell_  what it is, and he laughs. “You’re so eager. You must have been in here the entire time waiting for me to come in and fuck you against the war table.” 

She keens at that, a response is in her throat, but it dies out when he starts undoing her vest. “You probably weren’t touching yourself, but maybe every time you moved you could feel the how hot you were in between your legs.” In one easy movement, he pushes her shirt up and pants down. The cold causes her skin to prick and she gasps. 

He immediately drops all contact with her, and she realizes her mistake. It’s hard for Ariala, she’s always so vocal—all the time really, not just during sex. She’s straining not just against her bonds but against herself this time. It’s a challenge, but when has she not risen up to a challenge? Bull thinks the day she doesn’t rise up against is a day that Gods rise up—which is unfortunately a possibility considering the world they live in. 

It isn’t until she’s completely still and calm that he does it. There’s no way for her to guess what he has in his hand, that he grabbed one of the lit candles that she was using for light. No way for her to predict when he tilts the candle a bit and that a drop of wax will fall onto her hard nipple. 

He’s never going to get tired of watching her arch her back and keen—she keeps her composure, though. Her lips form the gasp, the moan, but neither have any air behind them to make the noise she so desperately needs to release. The only noise is from her sleeves slightly ripping on the knife. It makes Bull smile, he guessed right. They never discussed before if she would like something like this, but she loved the bruises from being tied up as much as the actual restraint. 

He thinks there might even be some things that she’s into that he wouldn’t be comfortable with. 

Another drop of wax hits on the same nipple, but he’s careful to put enough time in between so that he doesn’t actually burn her. She’s broke out in a silent pant now and shudders feeling the wax cool and harden on her. He wants to let her be able to speak because he can almost hear a ghost of her words on his ears, of her whimpering his name, _begging_  him. He doesn’t, though, he needs to restrain himself also. 

Without warning, he dips a finger into her and feels how absolutely soaked she is from just this. He hasn’t even touched her and yet he thinks that with just a little rock or two of his finger could set her off—he has to remember this for next time. 

He hopes it isn’t just the war table because he’s not going to be able to always fuck her here. 

Just crooking his finger in her causes another shudder to wrack her body and her breath hitches slightly. Her hips angle and she wants more, more pressure, more inside of her. As he drags his finger out of her, he drops wax onto her, slowly and methodically. He shudders himself when he feels how hard she clenches just around his finger—which, to be fair, is extremely large, and is as big as nearly three or four of her fingers—and thinks about how euphoric it will feel to have her around him again. Even though it’s only been a couple of days, he wishes he could spend every night with her—sex or not. 

He crooks his finger again at that— _sex or not_ —that’s not. This is sex. This is similar to the Tamassrans—he provides a sexual relief and comfort when she needs it. It’s not about the _not_  it is about what this _is_. 

A whimper draws him back to her and he acts on almost instinct to drop the candle low and burn her with the flame to fight against her breaking the rule. He judges her wrong, though. She jerks at the flame, but not in pleasure, but in a way that he can almost see her skin crawl. Her mouth this time doesn’t form a moan or a whimper but a word that she hasn’t used yet or even got close to needing.

  
_Katoh._ She forms it once but there’s no sound coming from her lips. He did something wrong. He judged her wrong. Fire, he should have realized was something that always made her uncomfortable—something that he figures stems from her childhood as she always shies away from it—and _burning_  her with it was almost irredeemable. 

She mouths it one more time before gritting her teeth and stopping.

He pauses for a moment and thinks. He’s had enough of the foreplay—or the candle specifically, the thought that he actually overstepped her boundaries actually puts a curl of disgust in his gut—he wants to make her come and make her lose herself in pleasure. 

He blows the candle out and sets it down, waiting until she becomes curious at what he’s doing to dip his head down and presses his mouth against her cunt. There’s no audible response besides the rip of her sleeves even more. The easiest way to get her to the end is this—she loves oral and prefers it to almost anything else. With her legs moved so that they’re perched on his horns, it’s easy to spread her like this and reach every spot that makes her shudder and want even more.

Ariala rocks her hips now, feeling more freedom than before to move and respond to him, but he always moves his tongue so it never touches her clit or her opening. He’s overwhelmed, though. She smells so good and tastes even better on his tongue. He can barely even focus on how she’s reacting to his tongue slipping inside of her and stroking her because he’s just thinking about how great she feels on his tongue and how much better she’ll feel on his dick. He _wants_ to fuck her. His thoughts trail from there into something much animalistic.

He can feel her body practically snap when he pushes two fingers into her and rubs them against the spot that would normally cause her to cry out and say his name over and over again. All she can do is pant and bite a hold in her lip hoping that’s enough to keep her from whimpering. 

He withdraws for a second, enjoying the view of her clutching around his fingers before looking up at her. She’s covered in a layer of sweat that makes her darker skin shine in the candlelight of the room. She’s not completely debauched, which he guesses is fine because they will have to walk back to her room before retiring for the night and who knows if a noble will try to get one last word to the Inquisitor. 

“Come,” he commands and dips back down to catch her clit between his teeth and she does. Her legs shake and her hips rock with his fingers, but he doesn’t stop when her orgasm fades. No, he keeps going, crooking his finger even harder into that spot and rolling his tongue over and over her clit until not even a moment after her last orgasm she’s lost again. 

He can only imagine how hard it is for her to remain quiet at this point. Her lip has to be bloody, and there’s a certain warmth that spreads through him as he thinks of all of the effort that she is going to to do this _for him_. The words that Cole said in the Wastes still ring through his head of how she does this all for him. How she holds out so long just to make it all better _for him_. 

Even though in this moment she’d normally be moaning and screaming her little heart out, she just clenches her hands and rides out her second orgasm with just her body reacting and jolting _for him_. 

  
_Kadan_  is the word that gets caught on his lips when he pulls back and looks at Ariala. Looks at her shimmering body rise and fall with each labored breath, and her smile that’s just so proud that she held out, that she kept to the rules even till the end. _Kadan_  he wants to call her and touch her not for just sex or her sake, but for his own sake to just be in contact with her. 

Her eyes are drooped—and he briefly realizes that the blindfold had fallen off in all her thrashing—but she never loses track of what she wants even in the midst of recovering from an orgasm. He unabashedly moans when her foot trails against the bulge in his pants, and grins when her foot retreats only to spread her legs as an invite for him. 

Bull smiles back at her and runs his hand down her thigh to her cunt where she’s almost dripping from the two orgasms. She shudders when he thumbs her clit once before undoing his own pants. It’s a relief to finally be free and within moments of fucking her, and he’s close even though he hasn’t done much for his own pleasure. There’s something about pleasing Ariala that just does him in. 

Sinking into her feels like he’s finally hit home. The curl of heat that was in him before now spreads to be a more prominent, overwhelming feeling of fire in his gut and chest. He can’t even move at the moment he’s so overwhelmed, but she takes it on herself to move and rocks herself back and forth on his dick. He wants to tease her or just _speak_  but all he can do is focus on how tight she is and how good she feels. He wants to tell her how good he feels; instead he just rocks back and forth. They’re small thrusts that get her riled up again. 

He absentmindedly runs his hand along her torso as he thrusts into her and peels the bits of wax off of her.

She’s lost most control of her body because of the pleasure and her restricting herself from vocalizing it. He’s entranced by how she throws her head to the side and the movement rolls though her body as she tries to contain herself and last to the very end. 

One last time, she throws her head back and comes—her body that had been thrashing all up to that point freezes and tenses as the pleasure pours through her. Bull stutters at the sight and comes himself inside of her, but doesn’t stop fucking her until the final shocks leave her completely boneless—and he isn’t much better. His knees feel weak as if she just asked him to go up another dune in the Wastes, and he has to brace himself on the table to catch his breath. 

When he looks up to her, he inhales sharply. The way she’s looking at him just exudes adoration and bliss and is absolutely beautiful on her, and when their eyes meet her smile spreads even wider. “Good?” she asks, her voice a bit rough from the earlier trials. 

He laughs and leans down to nuzzle her chest, “You were very good.” He reaches up and takes the knife out of her sleeves. Her hands come down to softly caress the back of his neck and right underneath his horns. It’s so gently and feels so good that it causes a shiver to run through him. “A little to the left,” he teases, but she takes it seriously and does it. 

He peels away after a moment to put pants back on her, and she lets him do all the work. “Back to my room?” she asks and does her vest herself. He helps her get off the table and spare one look back at it and grimace. “How long do you think till Cullen finds out?” she asks and leans into the arm that he puts around her. 

He chuckles, “He’ll know someone messed with all the figurines but he won't be able to figure out _why_  until someone tells him.” 

Crossing through Josephine’s study, he’s thankful that she’s already gone to bed and hopefully didn’t hear them— _him_ —perhaps Leliana saved her. Somehow, he can never keep their activities from the Spymaster as she always makes a comment to him about it, about not tiring the Inquisitor too much before a full day of travel.

Ariala is a bit dead on her feet as they make their way up to her room; she immediately strips into her smalls and falls into bed. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face at that and blows out all the candles in her room for her before he heads back to the stairs.

“Bull?” he hears and freezes. Her voice is so small unlike her voice. 

“Yeah, boss?” 

“Come back here,” it’s an order, and one that he wouldn’t ever think of refusing. She’s moved in the bed so that there’s now a huge space for him. He quickly strips of his clothing that he still has left and lies next to her, but before he can even move, she crawls on top of him and rests her head on his chest. 

He should be thinking about how much he enjoys her like this, pressing small kisses to his chest, but instead he’s thinking about the small burn on her ribs. A lapse in his own judgement and forethought that hurt her— _Kadan_ —greatly. She almost said it and she’s never even been close to it before. 

“When my brother’s magic came we were visiting my father’s stables, he lit some hay on fire on accident. It spooked some of the horses and I started yelling at him to put it out, but it’s not like he knew how. Instead of getting my father, we started fighting and he, he didn’t do it on purpose but he grabbed me and burnt me, lighting my shirt on fire. Whenever we got in fights after that, he always accidentally burned me.” 

Even though the story seemed quite serious to Bull, and even traumatic for a child, he could feel a smile pressed to his chest as if she were remembering it almost fondly. “Your brother was a mage?” he asks because he didn’t know this. To be honest, he didn’t know much about her family in general. The Trevelyans were a noble house in Ostwick whose wealth came from their horses that were almost solely used in the Grand Tourney. They also had a finger in almost every country in Thedas and some sort of influence. For the Trevelyans also to have _magic_ , well, Bull can only think of consequences of a family so closely tied to the Chantry too. 

She laughs, though, “Out of eight, five of us were born with magic.” 

He doesn’t know what to focus on: that Ariala has seven other siblings or that five of them are mages. “Uh, wow.” 

“Family secret.” 

“And yet you’re telling me.” 

“Consider it a marriage proposal,” she quips back quickly and props her up so she can look at him. “The Iron Bull Trevelyan,” she tries once before wrinkling her nose, “It’s a bit much, but it’ll have to do. You’re a noble now, too.” 

He snorts, “A _noble_? Shit, maybe I should let Madame de Fer get me some clothes.” He lets her laugh and then looks at her again more seriously, “I’m sorry."

Her gaze softens and she leans up to kiss and nuzzle right under his jaw, “Bull, you’re fine. You didn’t know and I didn’t ever tell you. I mean you could notice that I do give Dorian’s fireballs a good extra berth—but that’s also just self preservation, he has shit aim.” 

Her hand comes up and gently strokes his face as she pushes back up and then cups his face, “Really, Bull. It just freaked me out a bit, but it’s fine. Besides that was great. Thank you.” 

He looks at her and his heart feels like it literally swells, “Go to sleep,”  _Kadan_. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to write this a bit different for Bull, I don't know if it came across but he's struggling in between the line of what is romantic love and what is platonic love and I feel like that's a huge struggle for Bull during the game is that romantic love is such a foreign concept it's even more confusing than normal
> 
> that's why the sex is a lot less feely and a lot more technical and about her because that's what his relationship is--her (I just really enjoy the Bullmance, Bull is such a good character)


End file.
